


007? More like double-oh-fuck

by Shihachii



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Amanda and Todd have pararibulitis, Angst, F/M, Gen, Multi, Other, Slow Burn, double agent Amanda, lots of mentions of torture but nothing gory, mutual pining from our Drummerwolf pair, tons of angst, tons of swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-25 03:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14967725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shihachii/pseuds/Shihachii
Summary: After years of testing and torture in Blackwing, Amanda is enlisted as a double agent by Priest. Her mission: find the Rowdy Three, infiltrate them and gain their trust. Then, when the time is right, lead them to a capture spot without them suspecting.If she cooperates, she is condemning these strangers to a life of torture at the hands of Osmund Priest.If she doesn't, her brother dies.





	1. Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> This was edited by Guen Van Helsing!! You helped me so much darling!! THANK YOU!!!

The fluorescent light was harsh on her eyes, replacing the artificial darkness in her cell suddenly and abruptly. Amanda blinked rapidly, trying to get used to the sudden light. Though she had spots dancing over her retinas, she was used to this practice. After all Blackwing never held the subject’s feelings into account and startling subjects awake with a blast of light was the most effective way. 

Her legs swung over the side and she shivered at the cold of the tile floor, which drew into her bones and chilled her throughout. The familiar droning voice rang through the small room, echoing due to the lack of furniture and the white, bare walls. “Project Hecate. Prepare yourself for today’s testing.” 

“Yeah, yeah…” There wasn’t much to do to get ready, as all she had to do was stand up and drag a hand through her hair. There were no clothes to change out of, nothing to brush her teeth with or to brush her hair. There wasn’t even a place to have a shower. After the trails she was unceremoniously blasted with cold water to wash off the grime or muck that she’d accrued. 

Her eyes were blank as she waited and she wondered how her brother was doing. She hadn’t seen him at all in the past month, not even during the trails. It was odd, now that she thought of it. As their mental disorder was the same, they were often together during tests. The men in white coats had mentioned something about seeing how the result of the prodding and needling might be different. But for the past month, or she guessed, it was hard to keep track of time in this place, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. 

The door to her ‘room’ opened and the usual guards stood outside, in the corridor. The tall and burly one motioned for her to come with them. The one who was short and had curly hair walked behind her, gun held loosely against his side. The sight of the guns would have made anyone else nervous but here, it was the usual way of things. After years of being stuck in this testing facility, she’d gotten used to the sheer number of guns present, the militant way with which they handled her, as if she was a pack of explosives waiting to blow. 

When they turned right instead of left, she bumped into Tall-and-Burly. She was confused, she knew the way to her usual lab by heart. “We’re not going to-“ 

“Quiet!” Short-and-Curly barked, prodding her in the back with his gun. She clammed up instantly, a spike in her nerves making her stomach twist. If she wasn’t careful, if she asked too many questions or went out of line, she was sure the collar on her neck would spark. And the shock was so strong that it almost always triggered an attack of her mental illness. 

Knowing better than to apologise, she shuffled along behind Tall-and-Burly, glancing around at the new path. It looked no different to the other parts of the facility she’d seen, gleaming white and it smelt of sterilising chemicals. Wherever they were taking her, it was deeper into the building than she’d ever been before. Her bare feet slapped the tiles, echoing around the empty corridor as they marched her along. 

When Tall-and-Burly stopped, she crashed into his back, her nose hitting the black Kevlar of his body suit. Shortie grabbed her shoulder and yanked her backwards so hard that she almost lost her balance. “Fuck -“she muttered, not daring to finish the swearing. 

“You better behave yourself, freak,” Tall spat the words at her, straightening up when the door to the side opened. When Amanda saw who was standing in the doorframe, she froze. _Not him, please, please anyone but him,_ she pleaded to whatever higher power there was, anything that might take pity and help her. 

“Long time no see, Project Hecate.” Priest smiled coldly at her, his eyes as emotionless as a lizard’s. He reached out to touch her arm and she flinched, cold sweat now dripping down her spine underneath her clothes. The smile on her torturer’s face widened at the sight of her fear and his hand clasped her upper arm. Her whole body stiffened and she stared at the ground, jerkily steered into the room and forced down onto a chair. Contrary to usual practice, the chair was devoid of chains or restraints, or at least none she could see. 

She allowed herself to glance to the side, becoming even more confused at the room. It was very different to the one she was usually tested in. This one was filled with screens and other people, who were working away at computers. The glow of all the screens gave Priest’s face an up-lit, eerie look which made him look even more menacing and frightening to Amanda. 

“You might have noticed that your schedule has been a bit different these past couple of weeks.” He paced in front of her, his heavy boots thundering on the floor. She moved her bare feet back surreptitiously, trying to protect them from being stomped on. The yellow bruises were finally fading from where he’d stomped on them last time. “We’ve been doing different tests, seeing how you’d do in the field.” 

_What?_ “The – the field?” Amanda asked quietly, her eyes dropping to the floor as Priest glanced at her sharply. She wasn’t supposed to speak out of turn, but it seemed he was feeling merciful – no shocks tore through her body. 

“Yes, the field. We’re trying some new things, seeing how you’d cope with being outside, on your own.” _On her own._ God, the concept was so alien. Even when she was in her cell she was never truly alone, what with the camera and guards on 24/7 watch. Surreptitiously, she watched as Priest dragged a free chair over and sat in front of her. Him gazing at her and considering her face made her body feel like it was covered in insects. A crawling, gnawing sensation started all over her. She willed the rise of panic away and down, but it wasn’t easy, especially when she saw his hand loosely curl around the control which administered her shocks. 

“We have a very special job for you.” 

Amanda listened mutely, her head down. The temptation to ball her hands into fists, to fight and punch the man who’d hurt her so much was hard to resist. If she wanted to stay shock-free, she had to keep that urge under lock and key. So she kept her palms flat on her thighs, the ugly grey of the administered garb looking like a drab prisoner’s outfit. 

“Your mission is,” Priest grabbed a thick file from the side, idly flicking through the pages, “infiltrate, gain their trust and lead them to a capture point without them suspecting it.” He took out a page of the file, handing it to her. In the dim light, the glow of the screens reflected off the photograph. She saw four men, three of them standing in a circle and a fourth hanging off the side of a van. They were dressed in leather, studs and the like. They were filthy, covered in grime from head to toe. The filth had to be bad if it was this obvious in the picture, which was grainy and terrible quality. 

“Who are they?” The picture was snatched from her fingers and she recoiled again. He regarded the picture, eyes flickering over the faces. For the moment he didn’t speak, some strange emotion playing on his face, but before Amanda could identify it, his face smoothed over. 

“They call themselves the Rowdy Three.” 

Amanda paused. She was bad at maths, possibly to the point of having dyscalculia, but what with being stuck in a secret government facility she’d never had the chance to have it checked out properly. But she was sure she’d counted them right. Her voice grated from disuse, slightly croaky as she spoke. “But there’s four of them.” 

Priest rolled his eyes. “We know.” He stood up and slapped the file down on her lap. Flinching hard, she felt her whole body tense tight like a spring. “This is their file. After I’m done with you, you’ll have the rest of the day to study it.” 

The words _‘after I’m done with you’_ made Amanda swallow down bile. She’d heard that all too often from Priest and each time had left her in the medical wing for the rest of the month to recover from the injuries he’d inflicted. “First of all,” he gestured at a guy waiting in the wings, arms full of electrical apparatus that quivered as he shook, quaking like a leaf. Clearly, Priest spread fear amongst more than just his prisoners. 

The man stepped forward and told her to stay still. She froze, still as a statue, used to having her body fiddled with by unknown men in black. Something small and hard shot down her ear, blocking off all sound. The man pulled out a tablet, his fingers flying over the face. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, dreading what would happen next. Was this some new-fangled way to send shocks through her, closer to her brain, so that it would hurt even more? Or something to send waves into her brain and control her? 

When a static buzzing started in her ear, she jumped despite herself and the man muttered to himself. Whatever it was that was in her ear started up a ringing beep, the volume incredibly loud so close to her eardrum. After sliding his fingers all over the tablet, he straightened up and nodded at Priest, who had been watching her like an evil, dusty hawk from his chair. He pressed something to his mouth and Amanda heard double. “Can you hear me, Project Hecate?” 

She nodded at him, hearing both the staticky voice in her ear and the smooth voice from in front of her. “Good.” He put the microphone in his pocket and she heard crackling as he fumbled with it. Trying hard not to wince, she remained as still as possible. From experience, she knew not to move until he explicitly told her she was allowed to. A second man came over and this time Amanda couldn’t help moving away from the greasy, stinking lackey of a scientist. He had some sort of metal collar in his hands. It looked exactly like the one around her neck, the thing responsible for shocking her and triggering so many attacks. 

“Take your trousers off.” The man leered at her and she stood mechanically, dropping the file to the chair and trying hard to disassociate. She was used to stripping down in front of strangers but that didn’t mean she didn’t hate it. Doing as she was told, she stood there in her government issued underwear, her mind trying to take her far away from this situation. The gross man stooped and placed the cuff around her upper thigh, clicking it together. The click was like a seal on her fate. Nothing and no one would be able to take that cuff off, save on Priest’s orders. 

“You can put your clothes back on.” Priest sounded disinterested, checking his nails for dirt as she pulled her trousers back on. When she sat down, the cuff dug into the flesh of her leg. It was a shackle, tying her to Blackwing. 

“Oh and before I forget,” Priest stepped close to her, his hands on her neck. She trembled and closed her eyes. A sudden lightness, almost like a cool breeze hit her skin as he unlocked the collar and released her neck. 

She exhaled as he drew back, reaching up to touch her throat. It was free. She felt free. Even though the shackle on her leg was now her jailor, even though she was still within arms’ reach of Priest, she felt freer than she had in years. “Don’t go getting any ideas.” He held up another remote control, showing her the dial. “That leg cuff does just the same as the old one.” In his other hand, he held up the throat collar before dumping it in a bin. “Oh but you’ll love this. It does even more than the old one.” 

Amanda’s thumb traced the ridge of the cuff, easily feeling the edge through the rough material of her clothes. “It does this great thing where,” he smiled, “if you do anything wrong, I can still zap you no matter how far away you are.” Her pale skin went impossibly whiter. 

“And if you step out of line, if you tell the Rowdy Three what your mission is or attempt to warn them in any way? I get to inject you with this.” He pointed at the man beside him, who was holding up a bottle. It was full of an unnaturally blue substance, thick and dark, sloshing within. 

“See, what this serum does,” he leant closer to her, still grinning coldly, “is that it paralyses every muscle in your body in within, oh I think,” he glanced at the man who’d administered the cuff, “about two minutes? Give or take a few seconds?” His smile was like a child’s. A child who had procured a magnifying glass and was gazing at the ants he was going to burn. He looked gleeful, eager to see all the hurt he could bring and all the suffering he’d witness. 

“Your leg cuff has a built-in needle and several dosages of the stuff. So, if you breathe one word about this operation, make any sign that you’re going to escape? Click. In goes the serum and down goes your body.” He made the motions with his hand, then rubbed them together. “And that’s not even the best bit.” Amanda’s heart was pounding hard and she could feel the attack coming, the edges of her vision already swimming and blurry. Priest picked up a tablet, pressed in a combination and then turned the screen towards her. 

It was all she could do to stop screaming. Todd was bound to a chair, leaning forward. Saliva dripped from his lip, which was split and bleeding. His face was a mess of bruises and cuts. His overalls had blood splatters, amongst other things as well. 

“Todd!” Priest closed the tablet before she could see any more. Her fury spiked and even whilst she was terrified to death of him, she started swearing loudly. 

“You-“

Amanda jolted as he shocked her, hitting the back of the seat heavily as she groaned. It was only a minute shock, not enough to kickstart the attack that was getting ready to overwhelm her. Satisfied by her pain, Priest stuffed the controller back in his pocket. 

“If you mess this mission up,” he leant in close to her, so close that she could feel his gross breath on her ear. “If you mess this up, I will paralyse you with that serum. And then I’ll make you listen to your precious brother being killed slowly. I will hurt him so, so much. And you remember, don’t you?” He stroked a hand against her cheek and she leant back as far as she could, her heart racing and a lump in her throat. His touch raised goose bumps in their wake. A few strands of her hair tangled around his fingers and his cold eyes bored into hers. “I’m _very_ good at making people hurt.” 

A shudder ran down her spine and flashes of memory, unwanted and supressed, reared their head. Her fingers splintered, her skin being so bruised more of it was blue than her normal pale colour. Her hair brutally cut down to her scalp, as punishment for talking back, her legs shackled together as she was beaten. She swallowed hard and failed at willing down the attack that tore through her body. 

She went into spasms, gasping loudly and clutching at her throat. It felt like she couldn’t breathe. Priest sighed and sat backwards in his chair, her attack an inconvenience to him. The scientist who’d cuffed her stepped towards her, forcing a pill down her throat and clamping her mouth shut. It took a moment to work, to dissolve and take effect and she flailed, all the muscles in her body tightening so much that they would surely snap at any moment. 

She could suddenly breathe again and gulped air down greedily, slumping in her chair. Her body shook, and her hands trembled as she placed them on her lap again. “Are you finished?” Priest asked, staring at her in disdain. She nodded, still breathing deeply. 

“Your attacks are _such_ an annoyance.” He said, leaning forward in his seat again. “But we believe they’ll finally come in useful. The Rowdy Three feed off neural energy. When your attacks happen your brain shows a heightened amount of activity and we believe that this will draw them to you. Even without your attacks, you appear to have a higher amount of brain activity than the standard human, so if our calculations are right,” he was clearly bored now as he talked her through the mission, “if they’re right then they should be able to track and find you easily.” 

 

Amanda sat on her bed cross-legged, staring at the pictures in the file. She knew her life was screwed up, miserable and beyond repair, but now it really had taken a turn for the worse. Rubbing her temples, she listed the facts, trying to make sense of this particular turn of events. 

She needed to lure a bunch of ‘psychic vampires’ who allegedly busted up and destroyed everything they laid eyes on and who had killed people in the past, gain their trust and then lead them to a capture point without the Rowdy Three (all four of them) suspecting her. All this, whilst Priest muttered into her ear and shocked her if she stepped out of line. If she failed to complete the mission, then her brother would die, slowly and painfully. On top of that she would be paralysed, forced to listen to it while it happened and to top it off her torturers would be coming to collect her and return her to the life of forced scientific testing in this prison. 

The pictures of the subjects were stark and unflattering. “Project Incubus.” She murmured, tracing a finger along the pictures. The four men were of differing ages, differing backgrounds. The file listed all Blackwing knew about them, describing their capture and the subsequent tests and their final escape. She couldn’t help but feel envious. They’d managed to escape all this. Anguish rose over her like a tidal wave. They’d managed to escape this awful place and now she had to help terrible people to capture them again. 

All the documents attested to how deranged each man was, their madness only amplified by the other men around them. She had no idea if she could even come close to this group. They looked and sounded terrifying. 

She spent a long time examining their mugshots. Though each man was different, they all had one thing in common. In fact, it was something they had in common with her too. Each one, no matter if the eyes were blue, brown or so dark the pupil didn’t show, each pair had a haunted look. Dark circles, a pale pallor, she might have fit into the Rowdy Three instantly, as long as she had a change of wardrobe. 

The bed shook as she flopped backwards on it. Burying her face in the flat pillow, she held back her tears. She didn’t know these men, the Rowdy Three, but she knew the horrors that would happen if she helped Blackwing capture them. And she wouldn’t wish those horrors upon anyone, except perhaps Priest. If she mentioned the trap in any way, Blackwing would know instantly as they were constantly monitoring her through the ear implant and could immediately retaliate by shocking her or paralysing her with the leg cuff. 

However if she didn’t help her jailers and warned these men she didn’t know but pitied already, her brother would die painfully and slowly. She’d be forced to listen to Todd’s last moments as they came to find her and return her to Priest, who no doubt had a vile plan to exact his revenge on her for messing up the plan. 

Either way, people were going to get hurt. And either way, she would end back up in Blackwing, condemned to this life of torture and tests. 

What was she going to do? 

What _could_ she do?


	2. Oh, fuck. This is worse than I imagined.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda gets thrust into her new life as a traitorous spy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heids your help on this was incredible! Here's to finding out names and calling each other rude ones.

The car which would transport her to the drop-off location was small. The outside was dirty, sticking out starkly against the gleaming, industrially sterilised and cleaned garage. Priest opened the door for her. A wave of stink and must rushed out to meet her. When she sat down, the backseat felt oddly damp underneath her. Knowing better than to comment, Amanda focused on trying to buckle herself in. Her fingers clumsy from disuse, she fumbled until she clicked it in. The seat belt dug into the side of her neck, feeling more like a shackle than the cuff on her leg. Priest sighed at her attempts, standing outside of her open door.

“Are you done yet?”

She glanced up at him, registering his folded arms and irritated expression. If she wasn’t careful now, she’d be on the receiving end of one of his infamous backhands.

“Right,” Priest humphed, leaning down to her eye level. Resolutely keeping her eyes on the back of the headrest of the driver’s seat, she moved her body away from his as sneakily as she could. “Like your new clothes?” he asked. The usual prison jumpsuit marked with her symbol were gone, replaced by a grey T-shirt, jeans and a jacket. The fabric was soft, almost too soft for her. Only having had the rougher stuff in the past, she knew she’d get used to the softer clothes eventually. If the mission was over soon, she might not have time to get used to them however. She shifted uncomfortably in the tight bind of her new pair of trainers, which had been roughed up so as not to look suspicious.

“They’re alright,” she murmured, her thumb absentmindedly rubbing along the ridge of her leg cuff, which stuck up through the blue jeans. He snorted, turned away and grabbed something. A beat up old messenger bag was thrust into her face. The black fabric was scuffed and worn.

“Take it then.” Priest dropped it in her lap when she failed to do so. “In there is some cash to keep you fed, a bottle of water, tissues. Some of the necessities.” She flipped open the bag, staring at the assortment of items. Scratched aviator sunglasses that had seen better days, a change of clothes, including a pair of flowery underwear which looked ancient. They smelt ancient, too. A worn-out wallet with 25 dollars in notes and an extra 1 dollar and 39 cents in coins. The sharp smell of metal reached her nose and she inhaled deeply, coughing at the smell of dust that came after it.

“Don’t get too over-excited,” he muttered, grabbing a tablet from a subordinate. As Amanda rooted through the bag to the very bottom, he brought up a map on the screen. When she didn’t look up at him and kept looking at the stuff she now provisionally owned, he slammed his foot against the side of the car. The sound jolted her so badly the bag went flying, landing on the car floor.

“Pay fucking attention,” he snarled at her, grabbing her shoulder painfully hard. Her head instantly dropping down, she nodded mutely. Her palms were sweaty against her thighs, her heart racing hard. Successfully having taken her down a notch, Priest showed her the tablet. “This is where you’ll be going.”

The map showed a small town, two main roads and not much else. Buildings were clustered around the main road and the rest of the screen was filled with fields. It looked boring and safe. _Safe_. She couldn’t see where the facility was on the map, couldn’t see how far away the drop-off point was. But asking a question was tantamount to asking for Priest to kick your teeth in, so she remained quiet.

“Our sources tell us that the Rowdy Three have been in the general vicinity of this town. However,” he gritted his teeth, “they have an unusual skill for avoiding security cameras.”

She felt a spark of admiration for these strangers she had yet to find and then promptly betray. “If you walk around, they should catch your smell, your,” he waved his hand over her, “your higher-than-normal neural activity. You’re like a buffet to them.”

Being described as a buffet only brought depictions of cannibals to mind. Amanda swallowed down her growing nerves and fear.

“Once you’re dropped off, roam around town, spread your smell around. The boys’ll come knocking in no time.”

He withdrew the tablet from the car, straightening up. “From now on, your callsign is different too.” His hand reached in to grab her hair. Knowing she wasn’t in the clear yet, she counted down in her head, trying to keep her breathing even, or as even as possible, as he yanked it. “Your call sign is AB now. We will be addressing you as Agent Brotzman, from now on.”

 _Brotzman._ Her last name. What with them calling her freak, weirdo, test subject or Project Hecate, she’d almost forgotten her last name. He pulled her hair again to get her attention, leaning in close.

Somehow getting back her name gave her a surge of confidence. It was unwise to challenge him, she knew that from experience. But suddenly she didn’t care that she’d be shocked. She wanted to show him that though she may be frightened of him, she wasn’t about to back down again. Having her name back, was a way of getting her identity back too. It felt safe now to remember the days before Blackwing. Before being prodded and tested. She remembered she was never one to turn down fights on the playground. 

His cold, grey eyes widened as she stared him down, her brown eyes burning. His lip curled in distaste and he reached in his pocket for the control to shock her. When she saw his hand move to his pocket, she snapped her gaze away from his.

“You may be an agent and working for me now. But I won’t forget what you are,” Priest breathed against her. “You’re still a freak. A broken freak.” He watched her eyebrows contract, the satisfaction practically making him purr. “A broken freak that I can’t wait to break some more.”

Amanda’s eyes closed, her jaw clenching. Exhaling shakily, she counted in her head again. When he slammed the door shut against her, her instincts took over and she flinched hard. Her reaction made him laugh loudly and she felt the soldier start up the car. The tires squealed on the floor and then they were gone, speeding out of the facility.

Through the dark of the tinted windows she watched the garage walls speed past. Pressing her head against the window, she watched her breath steam up the glass. The walls finally peeled away. And Amanda’s mouth fell open. The window showed a stretch of bare countryside, all shrubbery and dusty, desert-y ground.

The sky was blue, impossibly blue. She’d recalled the colour so many times in her cell, stretching her hand up towards the ceiling and trying to imagine she was outside. Her recollections were nothing compared to the real thing. Even though the tinted glass changed the colour slightly, it was much more vivid than her imagination had ever been able to conjure up. The car sped down the tarmac, showing her more of the countryside. The sun beat down on the ground, baking it until cracks formed. Luckily, the soldier had the aircon on high, helping to keep them cool.

After staring at the landscape so long her eyes got tired, she turned her attention back to the bag, still on the dirty floor and spilling its contents everywhere. She took everything out of it and folded the clothes nicely, rolling them up to preserve space. In the wallet she found a fake ID, complete with a scared and pasty-looking mugshot for the photograph. It listed her date of birth, her full name and she tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. After she put everything away, she clutched the bag to her chest and leant back against the seat. She knew she was still being observed, that she could still be contacted by Priest through the earpiece and could still be shocked as punishment, but for the first time in a long, long while, she felt free. She dozed fitfully, watched the country slip past through half-lidded eyes.  

The soldier remained silent for the full four hours of the journey, stopping once to refuel and locking Amanda in the car. She hadn’t thought about escaping until the doors locked her in. It wasn’t like she’d get very far even if she did. Apart from the petrol station, there wasn’t anything for miles. She could see a small group of buildings in the distance, but even if she did run, Priest would just shock her and keep her down before she got even ten paces away from the road.

When more and more buildings started emerging, Amanda sat up straighter. Surely, they were almost there by now? Her nerves mounting higher and higher with each passing minute, she considered what she needed to do. She’d thought about the mission all last night, not being able to get a wink of sleep. Once she decided she’d wing it, she managed to get rest, albeit briefly. Now she was about to start the mission however, she felt more than sick.

Amanda rested her temple against the window again, hugging the black bag for some form of comfort. Was she really going to help Blackwing? There was nothing on Earth that she hated more than she hated that group of people. She wanted to see them wiped off the map, burnt to the ground, and wanted to see everyone who worked for Blackwing dead. Her blood boiled as she thought about them, but her mind brought up the image of her brother again. Todd, beaten, bound and broken. How could she abandon him?

On the other hand, how could she condemn these men, the Rowdy Three, to a life of imprisonment and tests? She didn’t know them yet but she knew the torture that awaited them with an uncomfortable intimacy. How could she hand over anyone, knowing that was waiting for them?

Still internally conflicted, her eyes lingered on the buildings as the car started slowing down. The centre of the town had more traffic than the open desert highway. Staring at the back of the soldier’s head, she wondered if she had permission to speak. Feeling like a petulant teenager, she cleared her throat, rough from the forced silence. “Are we there yet?”

The soldier stiffened. “Almost, I’m to set you down outside the town hall.”

She rubbed the too-soft fabric of her shirt between her fingers nervously, humming in assent and turning her attention back outside. More and more people had started appearing as they rolled in to the city centre. Families, parents holding kids’ hands, people walking with hats and headphones, slouching in hoodies, everyone seemed to pass by her window. How was she to walk amongst them again? It had been so long, she’d forgotten how to act around other people, normal people, people who had never heard of Blackwing and the terrors they inflicted.

The car suddenly stopped and a horn blared behind them, making both of them jump. “This is it.” The soldier pressed a button that unlocked the doors. Quaking, Amanda reached for the door handle. Without a word spoken, she heaved herself out of the car and stood blinking in the sunlight. It felt like the brightest thing she’d ever experienced. Unfortunately, she was in no place to loiter. The horn blared again and she almost lurched against the car. Speeding away from the middle of the road, she stopped on the pavement and watched as the soldier turned the car around smoothly and peeled away, in a whirl of dust.

She was alone.

 

She was outside. In the sun. With the sky baring itself overhead. With people, other people. Normal people. Passers-by gazed at her, some interested, some worried. Keeping her head down, she placed the strap of the bag over her shoulder and started walking. Not knowing where to go, she just walked in whichever direction that had the smallest amount of people.

Once she’d rounded the block, she started looking at the people coming towards her, examining their clothes, the way they walked and talked to other people or to small devices pressed to their ears. Her very own ear device started crackling and she shivered as she heard Priest’s voice.

_“Come in AB, do you read me?”_

She nodded at first but then realised of course that he couldn’t see her. Priest could track her position and vital signs, hear her words, but at least she was able to glare and flip off the air when he spoke now.

“Yes,” she muttered back, looking away when people glanced at her. It must have been odd, seeing someone speak to thin air. Quickly cottoning on, she pressed her cupped hand to her ear, in an attempt to imitate a phone.

 _“No eyes on the Rowdy Three yet. We’ve tapped in to all CCTV and will notify you when they turn up.”_ Immediately Amanda’s eyes flew to the corners of the buildings, trying to find the nearest camera so she could walk away from it. She didn’t know what else to say, so she just muttered an ‘okay’ and was relieved when Priest remained silent.

Her feet already ached from being strapped into shoes for so long and she really wanted to sit down. Remembering she had money, she approached the nearest café. Was 25 dollars enough to buy a cup of something? She decided to find out.

She sat on a rickety chair by the window, almost pitching backwards instantly due to a wobbly leg. Regaining her composure, she sat up and tried to pretend she knew what she was doing. What did normal people drink in cafés? A waitress emerged from behind a door, spotted her and Amanda’s hands started sweating. Even though she wore a smile, Amanda knew the waitress found her odd as she took her order of ‘Oh, erm do you do err, coffee?’. _Oddly endearing_ was what the waitress actually thought, who delivered her coffee a minute later with a bemused smile.

Amanda handed over all her money to the waitress, who returned the twenty and the coins, taking the five dollar note to the till and returning with change. She stuffed the coins into her wallet and smiled nervously at the waitress who smiled back easily.

The coffee smelt bitter, but she placed her hands around the ceramic. It was burning hot to the touch and she settled for leaving a gap between the cup and her palms. Feeling like an imposter, she sipped at the coffee and watched the people pass by outside. When nothing but the dregs were left, she simply sat, waiting for a sign and avoiding the confrontation of her morals.

 

 

Even by Priest’s impatient standards, the targets approached quickly. After 47 minutes of Amanda being in the city, the infamous van trundled past one of the CCTV cameras.

_“Eyes on targets!”_

She sat up straight, her heart going a hundred miles an hour. Now they were in the area, what was she supposed to do? She stood up, holding her bag to her side and walked outside, trying to relieve her nerves slightly by keeping herself moving.

Priest had a plan of course. Whilst they were sure her neural activity would reel them in, he knew a sure-fire way to attract the boys to her. The best way was to open the buffet.

Amanda’s feet beat the ground and she felt herself sweat. The cuff on her leg tightened uncomfortably and then white-hot pain shot through her thigh, up her spine and spread through her whole body. Stumbling to the ground, she could hear Priest laughing. The electric shock was so painful and intense that it kickstarted one of her attacks, as planned by Priest, of course. And boy, was it a bad one.

The buffet was open for business.

Priest smiled as he watched her vitals jump all over on the screen.

Amanda thrashed on the ground, feeling like she was being burnt alive. The people around her yelled in alarm and panic, crowding her, shouting at her, asking if they could do anything to help. It only made the ordeal ten times as bad. She didn’t want to see the people around her, needed to be alone. Their attempts to help were futile anyway. Nothing helped other than the pills, the pills she had none of.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she screamed. Just as she gave in to despair, sure her skin was burnt to a crisp, something happened.

A sort of sigh, a cool breeze, a ripple through her body and a then a blessed, muted silence. The pain disappeared and left behind only an ache in her bones, her leg throbbing from where she’d landed on the ground.

Whilst she caught her breath, she opened her eyes. The blue of the sky made her eyes burn. There wasn’t a single cloud in sight, only the burning blaze of the midday sun. Four figures stooped over her and eclipsed the light. The faces above her were those she’d seen in the files.

Project Incubus.

The Rowdy Three had arrived. All four of them.


	3. Fuck. They're really nice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Amanda meets the Rowdies, she finds her inner turmoil roiling as they welcome her to their group with open arms, warm hugs, wide smiles and burritos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much Heids!! I hope you all like the new chapter and like finally seeing the Rowdy Three in action!!!

Project Incubus #4 offered her his hand. The fingerless gloves he was wearing were fraying and his fingernails were black with dirt. When she took his offer, he was gentle as he helped her to her feet. He wasn’t that much taller than her and he smiled widely at her, showing teeth that could do with a brush. #2 brushed her clothes down, the dust seeping in the air and whirling away. Her heart was still racing like mad.

The four men stood around her in a loose circle. They looked even grimier than the pictures had shown them to be. She noted that they all looked a lot healthier since the pictures had been taken, full of energy and it also looked like they’d put some weight on. Despite her nerves, despite knowing her mission, she smiled back at #4 and #2, glancing around at the other two.

The one with the mohawk spoke first. His voice was low, lower than she’d imagined when reading his file. He was also shorter than she’d imagined. Project Incubus #1, first name Martin. His last name had been removed from the file, which she found curious. He was the older out of the four and as such chosen to be  #1. Captured eighteen years ago, he had spent two years under lock and key in the testing facility and had then escaped. Talents included smashing things, driving, and apparently also giving stern looks to people.

She had zoned out whilst he spoke, so he touched her shoulder to get her attention again. At the unexpected touch she cringed and he quickly moved his hand back. “I asked are y’okay?”

Nodding, she kept her eyes on the ground. Dully, she saw #3 shooing away the crowd of people that had tried and failed to help her.

Priest was staying oddly quiet in her ear but she knew she’d need to make more of an effort with them. “I’m fine now, thanks to you.” She looked up and around at each of them, trying not to let any flash of recognition cross her face.

The tallest one retrieved her bag and handed it to her, patting her head as he moved back. Project Incubus #3, alias Cross, real name unknown. Was brought in along with #1 and #2. Reacted badly to tests and was thus left in isolation, to see how that would affect him. This test forced them to deal with their clearly inseparable bond, as they quickly found that if one of them is alone and suffering, then all of them suffer.

“Thank you.” He smiled at her too, the tattoo of a circle around his eye crinkling with his eyes. 

“You gonna be okay from here?” asked #2.  Looking at him, she was able to reel off his file as well. Alias Gripps, real name unknown. The glue that holds the Rowdy Three together. If left together in a cell, this subject was the one to try and keep their spirits up. Experiment with grafting unsuccessful. Amanda didn’t actually know what that particular experiment had been, but she wasn’t inclined to find out.

Her mouth was dry. What was she supposed to say?  _ I’m all alone, I have no money, nowhere to go, no one who can help me and I’m trying to run away from a secret government facility that will kill my brother unless I cooperate? _

Clearly her silence and the conflict on her face was enough. #4 (The youngest, name: Jacob Vogel, taken by Blackwing at the age of eight. Family still looking for him.) reached down slowly and deliberately, having seen her flinch before. Gingerly taking her hand, he looked her in the eye. “If you have no place to go, we always have extra room.” He turned to the oldest one, who was scrutinising her.

“Right? Martin?”

Martin stepped forward, his glasses glinting and also moved slowly as he pressed his large hand to her upper arm. When he looked over his lenses, Amanda was reminded of the sky. His eyes were so blue and bright, she found herself dumbstruck. A spark that had nothing to do with her leg cuff jolted through her body.

“If you need a place to go, you’re welcome.”

She felt tears prick painfully into her eyes. She wanted to go. Even if she hadn’t had this terrible mission, she would have said yes. These men had known her all of two minutes but were smiling, treating her like precious china when they saw the cracks in her. The earpiece was silent still but she was sure she could hear Priest laughing. The sound chilled her down to the bone.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she nodded. “That would be great,” she managed to murmur, her smile a broken one.

“ _ Well done, Agent Brotzman,” _ she heard.

 

 

The van stank of stale air, and it was cramped with the other guys in the back, but Amanda felt safe. Even with Priest breathing down her ear and following her every move, the Rowdy Three made her feel comfortable and at home. After introducing themselves, Cross and Gripps shook her hand formally to welcome her to the group. Once they knew her name in turn, Vogel kept trying out variations of her name because apparently ‘Amanda’ was too many syllables for him. “It just doesn’t roll off the tongue, you know?” 

They all made a clear effort to move slowly around her so as not to surprise or scare her. The youngest one, #4, found this most difficult. Vogel, as he was introduced, was clearly brimming to the eyeballs with energy. As he sat beside her, his legs jumped around to stay moving somehow. His easy grin and enthusiasm was infectious however and soon Amanda felt more relaxed and at ease, even whilst the van trundled along the road.

#2, or Gripps as she would now be calling him, was kind and soft, asking her if she’d eaten lately, if she needed water or anything else. He assured her that if she needed or wanted anything, they could stop the van and help her get whatever it was. He sat opposite her, sizing her up. When she’d replied that she hadn’t eaten since early that morning, he tsk-ed loudly and told Martin to drive them someplace they could find food.

#3, Cross, was glaring at her, sitting across her and leaning against Gripps. Amanda felt a cold spear thrust into her stomach. Did he suspect her already ? Wait, was he glaring? She leaned forward a little for a closer look, and let out a soft sigh of relief. His eyes were half-lidded and then closed themselves. A soft snore started rumbling through his chest  and Gripps snorted, pushing Cross over to lie on the floor of the van so he wouldn’t pitch forward and hit his head if they took a bend in the road.

#1 was focused on the road. Amanda glanced at him every now and then, watching the smoke curl off the cigarette that hung from his lips. What had that spark been about? Surely it had just been her imagination. She was probably just upset from the attack and then been startled by how blue his eyes were. Yes, that was it. She’d just been surprised to be stared at so intently, by eyes that looked like they had fragments of the sky itself captured within them. Trying to convince herself, she looked at her hands. They still stung from when she’d fallen on the floor, and she inspected the scrapes.

“Does it hurt?” asked Vogel, who looked from her to her hands and then to Gripps, who leant forward. Touching her with the utmost delicacy, his warmth seeped through to her cold bones. She sighed.

“That feels nice.” Gripps smiled toothily, gently rubbing his thumb along the back of her hands.

“We should probably get that disinfected and covered up.”

Amanda shook her head. “It’s fine, I heal quite fast and this is nothing, I’ve had way worse before.” She froze. Had she given too much away?

“Are you really clumsy?” She glanced at Vogel, who was peeled his jacket off. “I am, see that’s why I keep getting scabs and shit like that.” His arms were littered with bruises in different stages of healing. Next to a particularly large yellowing one, his skin was scabbed over in small lines as if he’d been raked by something sharp and pointy.

“Yeah, well,” she heard Martin call out from the front, “you also climb everything that’s a head taller than you and then jump off it.” Vogel laughed loudly.

“But it’s fun!” He shrugged his jacket back on. “Climbing trees is the best! And then when I jump down, right, Martin always tries to catch me, but like, he used to be able to,right, when I was like this,” he waved his hand at around hip height, “but now he’s not strong enough to catch me anymore!”

“That’s because you got bigger, you shit,” replied Martin, still keeping his eyes on the road. Amanda found herself smiling as the banter went back and forth. She caught herself in the act. How long had it been? Since she’d actually, genuinely smiled and felt laughter bubble in her throat? She let herself laugh, causing Vogel to beam at her.

_ “Don’t be getting too comfortable there, now.”  _

The laughter died in her throat and she looked to the floor. God, she hated Priest so much. For a moment she was able to forget but now reality came crashing back down. Gripps looked confused, as did Vogel but they recovered quickly.

“Food then?”

 

 

 

After years of eating government issued slop with all the necessary nutrients, but sadly all the taste and flavours removed, eating a burrito was like ascending up to Heaven for Amanda’s taste buds. Practically inhaling her food, she had to be reminded to breathe and drink water so as not to choke. Cross and Martin shared a look. She claimed not to have eaten since that morning, but she was acting like she hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. The truth was of course far sadder.

Absolutely satiated and stuffed so full she didn’t want to move, she watched the Rowdy Three. She noticed they hadn’t eaten.

“You guys not hungry?”

_ “God, didn’t you read the file? They don’t need food, you fucking moron.” _

Ignoring Priest, she looked at Martin, who was smoking with his back turned, so as not to spoil her meal with the smoke. Vogel just shrugged. “Food don’t taste good anymore. Used to though.”

“I used to love doughnuts,” Gripps sighed and gazed at the sky.

“I miss tacos,” murmured Cross, digging his fingernail into the wood of the table.

“So, what you guys don’t have to eat at all?”

Martin swivelled on the bench, exhaling smoke through his nostrils. “We eat neurological energy, that’s our food.”

Amanda considered this, grabbing the rubbish on the table before the wind blew it away. She folded the foil and greaseproof paper the food had come in as she considered what to say next.

“So, like, you eat emotions?”

“In a way.”

“What does it taste like?”

Vogel interrupted Martin before he could answer. “Every person tastes different! And every emotion tastes different too! That’s the fun of it!”

Turning her attention to the hyperactive ball of energy, Amanda watched him bounce about on the bench. “What do you like most?”

Vogel thought for a moment, stroking his chin as though he had a beard. Perhaps it was a habit he’d picked up from the one bearded member of the group, who was in fact stroking his beard in the exact same gesture as he considered the question.

“Anger really fills me up and it tastes kinda spicy too, which is gooooood,” he said, drawing out the last word. 

Gripps piped up. “Sadness tastes kind of like cream. And when we eat sadness the person always ends up happier, so that’s nice.”

Martin snorted. “I don’t know, don’t you think pain tastes good?” The others murmured in assent.

“Did I taste good?” She blurted it out before she had time to think about the suggestive phrasing. When Martin’s mouth widened in a wicked grin, she went pink.

“You tasted amazing,” he drawled, fixing her with an intense look. She managed to cough past her embarrassment and glanced away from him.

“You tasted great though, there were so many different flavours like– like,” Vogel tried to find words to describe her properly, “like loads of different jelly beans? One minute it’s banana, then blam! Chocolate! Blam! Cherry!”

Cross nodded at him in agreement. “You had a shit ton of energy going on there. What was up with that?”

She fidgeted, worrying at the sleeves of her jacket. Should she tell them or not? Surely if she told them, they would figure it out?

_ “Tell them the truth. It’ll make them pity you.” _

_ Gee, thanks Priest, _ she thought wryly. “I have a sickness.” The four men sat up straighter, each one gazing at her intently and listening with full concentration. She kept her eyes focused on her scratched-up hands, fiddling with her fingers.

“It causes me to have intense hallucinations. I know they’re not real but they feel real.”

They were silent for a moment. Then Gripps nudged her hands with his own. “What did you see when we found you? What was the hallucination?”

Her skin hurt as she thought back to the attack from earlier. “I was being burnt alive.”

They all swore under their breath, all variations on ‘fuck’ and most of them involving ‘shit’ as well.

“Yeah, it’s bad,” she murmured, sinking into thought. It had been a really bad one, what with the overstimulation of the people around her and her nerves of the mission.

Four hands, gloved, ringed, and grimy reached out to touch hers gingerly.

“You don’t have to worry about that shit anymore,” Cross said, gazing at her. Her eyes filled with tears and she bit the inside of her cheek. Martin’s hand tightened around hers and she looked at him, then at the others in turn. 

“Yeah, Manda, you’re one of us now!” Vogel patted her hand vigorously and smiled from ear to ear. Gripps nodded solemnly and Cross pulled at the hood of her jacket. “We’ll need to get you a matching jacket.”

They had known her for less than two hours and she felt more at home with them than she had with anyone else, including her real family.

Priest didn’t need to whisper in her ear. Her own guilt whispered in his stead.  _ Don’t forget you’re going to betray them all. _

Vogel bounced about, grinning and laughing. Could she really doom him to a life of imprisonment in a tiny Blackwing cell? Gripps, who was making plans to go to a chemist’s to get some disinfectant for her hands, could she hand him over, knowing he would be tortured? Cross, who was talking loudly about a thrift store they’d passed, who was insisting they get her clothes that matched theirs, could she willingly hand him over to Priest, who was a monster out for blood?

And Martin, whose gaze was electrifying but in a good way, whose touch made her stomach twist. Could she betray him?

Could she betray any of them, now that she knew them? 


	4. The fuck is that?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though the Rowdies are lovely, Amanda finds it hard to fall asleep around them. Sneaking outside, she encounters Martin and they share some of their painful past.

The rowdies’ company made time seem like it had been sped up. They got Amanda’s cuts cleaned up, Gripps hushing her when she whimpered and Vogel providing a running commentary of what a bunch of crows were doing in a nearby tree to distract her. They even found the thrift shop Cross had mentioned, the boys running down the aisles whilst Amanda and Cross dug around for new clothes that suited her. They found several articles that fit her and went with their look, a ratty black band T-shirt so old the words had faded from it, a large pair of worn-down old ‘stompy boots’, a new leather jacket so well worn it was soft to the touch and a pair of ripped jeans that hung loosely around her hips. Satisfied with her new look, the food in her belly, the jokes they cracked and with playing the rowdies did, Amanda hadn’t notice the day go by until the sky was turning into purples and pinks.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, not remembering seeing a sunset ever. “Is it always like that?”

Martin made a face, unsettled by her odd words. She appeared to know very little, everything seemed so new to her. He shared a look of worry with Gripps, who was also frowning. Agreeing silently to talk it out later, they didn’t say a word or let her know how strange her words made her appear.

When the time came for sleeping, Amanda looked around for beds. As there were none, she presumed they slept on the floor. She had past experiences with that but she was sure the ground would be more comfortable than a tile floor, especially one that was splattered with all sorts of bodily fluids.

She started taking off her boots, but struggled with the knots. Cross stooped to help her, letting her rest her boot on his knee. “Ya just gotta pull the right bit,” he murmured, showing her. She nodded thoughtfully and then tried to untie the other boot. Cross watched her, her grumbling attempts reminding him of when they taught Vogel how to tie his shoes properly.

The attempt to bed down and make herself comfortable on the ground was met with odd glances again. Vogel just laughed, thinking she was having fun with them all.

“Hey, the van is a lot more comfy than the dirt!”

“What?” She looked up at Vogel, who loomed over her but then crouched down closer to her.

“We sleep in the van normally or like on the seats.” His explanations were filled with energetic gestures, mostly pointing around to the other men and the van.

“Oh,” she sat up and brushed the dirt off her.

“I’ll make sure you get the comfiest spot!” He leant towards her and stage-whispered, “Ya really don’t wanna sleep next to Martin’s feet!”

Martin chucked one of Amanda’s boots at him which he dodged easily. “And Cross elbows people, so stay out of range!”

Cross approached him and grabbed his sides. “I’ll give you something to stay out of range from,” he threw Vogel bodily over the seat Martin was sitting on. The impact caused the seat to fall backwards, taking both Vogel and Martin with it. Amanda laughed as she saw Martin’s long legs stick out at an angle,  Vogel struggling to get up.

_“Having fun?”_

Her laughter ended abruptly, causing more confused glances from Gripps. He was starting to get really worried about this kid. She seemed fine most of the time, enjoying herself and then suddenly clamming up, looking as miserable as a drowned rat.

When Vogel got to his feet and helped Martin put the seat back on the ground the right way up, he bounced towards the van, starting to strip. Cross stopped him, his shirt stuck over his head. “Maybe we should keep our clothes on tonight, kid.”

Shirt still over his head, Vogel asked “Why?” very loudly. Gripps cleared his throat.

“Because you smell ripe and we don’t want to scare off our newest, do we?” He looked at him pointedly, but the effect was lost as Vogel’s head was absolutely stuck in the hole of his shirt. Amanda helped him, easing the shirt over one ear at a time.

“I don’t mind, honestly,” she started but Gripps waved away her words.

“Trust me.”

 

As promised, Vogel gave her the comfiest bit of floor. Clearly, it was the cleanest bit, as well as the one in the centre. Cross laid against her, his back touching hers lightly. Vogel lay in front of her, his head against Gripps’ chest and their arms around each other to get comfortable. Light blankets were draped over them, all shared.  It was pleasantly warm in the van, a cool breeze from the open door ruffling their hair every now and then. It was quiet. Peaceful. The sound of breathing mixed with the sound of the campfire outside. It was the most comfortable place to sleep she could imagine.

Despite all this, she just couldn’t drop off. Whenever she closed her eyes she saw Todd, could hear him pleading to help him, save him. The horrors Priest might be inflicting on him played on the inside of her eyelids. Clearly, sleep wasn’t going to come soon.

After an hour of tossing and turning, she sat up carefully and snuck out of the open van door. Maybe some fresh air and watching the stars would help her fall asleep.

She froze when she saw the figure draped on the car seat. She’d forgotten he was on watch. He’d done nothing of course, but he made her feel incredibly nervous. And itchy. Itchy and nervous were the two main things she felt when she saw him. Despite his relaxed position, he was still clearly awake. Before she could sneak away, Martin glanced up.

“Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head, wrapping the new black jacket around her for warmth.

“Come sit,” he said, patting the seat beside her. The springs in it were shot, some sticking out of the back, but when she sat down she bounced lightly. It was quite comfortable, especially with the warmth of the fire. Surreptitiously, she snuck a glance of him from the corner of her eye, watching him swig a can of beer.

Seeing her staring and misinterpreting it, he reached down to the cooler by his side.

“Want one?” A new can was in his hand, offered to her. She hesitated, having no idea what exactly it was that he was drinking. Did water come in cans?

“What is it?” She asked, reaching for the can anyway. The intense cold was a surprise to her and she rested it against her knee, her fingers feeling slightly numb.

“Beer.”

“Oh, I’ve, err, I’ve never really tried it before.”

“Really?” Eyebrows raised, he offered her his own, open can. “Try mine. If you don’t like it, it won’t go to waste.” Not knowing what to expect, she reached out for the drink. His fingertips brushed hers and she looked away. This metal can felt lukewarm and she lifted it up to her lips to try. She tried hard not to think of his mouth touching the can just moments before. It didn’t work. Even in the dim light of the fire, Martin could see how pink her cheeks were.

Once she tasted it, she spluttered, not having expected the fizz and bitterness. Martin laughed as she coughed, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses.

“Y’okay?” He clapped a hand on her back to help her cough it up, but sadly it backfired. She jolted at the contact, freezing hard. “Sorry, sorry, y’okay though?” He held his hands up. All day she’d flinched or blanched at sudden movements and harsh physical contact and yet he still couldn’t stop himself from touching her. He was used to shoving and smacking the others and he needed to get rid that habit if he wanted to be around her and make her feel comfortable.

“Fine,” she cleared her throat, gulping down the last of the beer taste.

They stared at the fire in silence, the snap, crackle and pop of the fire the only sound filling their little, warm enclave. The flames flashed off his glasses. When he shifted back, she saw his eyes fixed on her.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he murmured, resting his elbows on his knees. Apart from not being able to sleep, Martin was sure she had a lot to think about. He couldn’t imagine what she was going though. She was clearly homeless, alone, and had to fight off those hallucinations to boot. Throw in being informally adopted by a group of punk psychic vampires and he was sure her mind must be in a terrible muddle.

She held her hand out. He looked at her palm and then up at her, her expression blank. “What? You said you’d give me a penny.”

Before he could stop himself, he snorted loudly. “It’s an expression, kid, but sure.” She went red again. Whilst he dug around in his pockets, sure he had some change somewhere, he thought about how little world knowledge she had, it was intensely odd.

Though the Rowdy Three never used money to buy anything, preferring the technique of smashing, breaking and entering, Vogel often swiped coins. He said he liked the pictures on them. Vogel was such a scatterbrain however and often gave Martin things, as gifts or to keep them safe. As such, Martin found a pile of coins deep in one of his pockets.

“Here,” he handed her some coins, stacking them up high on her palm. They were warm to the touch, each one a different size. Had she known more about money and handled it before, she would have been able to tell that each coin was of a different currency. Large euros and dollars, pounds and lira rubbed one another as she examined them on her hand.

“And now, your thoughts?”

Amanda rolled one of the larger, bronze coins between her thumb and forefinger as she considered what to say. What could she tell him, without giving anything away?

“It’s all just a lot to take in you know?” Martin hummed at her, his head resting on the seat, angled towards her. She couldn’t bear to look at him, feeling so guilty for tricking him and the rest of tem, so she kept staring at the fire, idly rolling the coins in her palms.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He could tell she was sincere, but could also tell that there was something else, just itching away at her, under the surface. The sour smell of fear was rife in the air, coiling off Amanda in waves. Had one of the guys been like this, Martin would have known exactly what to do. But with her, he was unsure. It was like he had to walk on eggshells around her, not knowing what might make her flinch or move away. He had seen the way she’d laughed and smiled with the others, thoroughly enjoying herself.  But always, just a split second later, her face fell and she went back to being scared and closed off. What could he do to help?

He knocked her knee into hers, letting his leg rest against her own by means of some physical contact. She looked up in surprise, but left her leg there, pushing back slightly on his. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and he felt his own lips curl in response.

“Tell me more about yourself,” he told her, trying to steer her away from the difficult territory that was her emotional state. “I wanna know more about you.”

Her heart was thumping hard again and she squared her jaw, looking back at him. When their eyes met briefly, she felt her stomach fill with something, fluttering against the walls of her organ.

“I err…”

“How old are you?” He asked, trying to help steer the conversation the best he could.

She was silent, staring at her feet.

_Shit. Bad question_. “Do you have any family members?”

She smiled sadly. _Shit, another bad question._ Whilst he was inwardly damning his unsubtly, she remained silent. He was surprised when she answered it after all.

“A brother.”

“Older or younger?”

“Older. He wasn’t that much older though and yet he always treated me like I was a baby.” He noted the use of the past tense and clenched his jaw, trying to change the mood.

“I had a brother, too, once. Well, I have three of ‘em now, but before that,” _before Blackwing,_ he thought, “I just had the one before.” Martin’s face was stony, tense. He had tried to lighten the mood by finding a similarity between them, but he wasn’t doing such a great job.

Amanda paused. She too had noted the past tense and wondered what had happened to Martin’s brother.

“Is he..?”

“Nah, he’s not dead,” he said, his expression hard to read. “Just dead to me.”

“Family is hard,” she murmured and again she thought of Todd, locked up and being beaten, possibly starved. You could never know what Priest might do. On that note, she realised she hadn’t heard the voice of her torturer in a while now. Maybe he’d gone to sleep, did lizard people ever sleep? It felt like Priest could outlive even the sun, fuelled only by pure spite.

“I’m sorry, family is hard.”

Slowly, he raised his hand. He pressed his palm against her shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be hard,” he murmured and when she met his eyes, they had softened. It didn’t stop the jolt down her insides. The soft touch and warm words, the way his leg was still pressed against hers in a silent affirmation, she just melted.

Leaning heavily against him, Amanda enjoyed the physical affection as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close against him. His heartbeat under her ear, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way he smelt of dust and smoke but somehow, him still smelling good to her, she knew she was falling deeply. Too deeply.

In the silence, they basked in each other’s presence, keeping the other warm. Just for a moment, she was able to entertain the thought that they could be together like this, could just forget about everything she had to do and everything that might happen if she didn’t.

That is, until a voice smooth as velvet and as harsh as a brick to the face whispered in her ear.

_“Well, wasn’t that just heart-warming.”_

The coins slipped from her hands and clinked to the dusty ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this series has 100 views!  
> I hope you're all enjoying it and thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! 
> 
> <3


	5. I hate that I have to do this shit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin starts to realise that Amanda is acting oddly. To get him off her tail, she decides to tell the Rowdies about her past in Blackwing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all!! I hope you enjoy this chapter!! I got kind of stuck on this chapter, but the next one is already being written as I post this, so the next update should come soon!!

After hastily made excuses, scrabbling the coins together and fleeing to the van, Amanda shut her eyes tight. She stood behind the van, her chest heaving. There was no way that Martin hadn’t notice her sudden and dramatic change. She’d seen concern flash over his face, his mouth opening and his hand reaching for her when she panicked and left. Surely, surely, this was too suspicious.

_“The fuck is wrong with you, AB? Did you have a heart attack or something?”_

She bit back the urge to spit on the ground, to claw the earpiece out of her ear and rip the cuff off her leg. Was it not enough for him to torture her? Was it not enough to use her like a pawn in a game where the stakes were life and death? Was it not enough? Instead of beating her fists to the side of the van, which would surely make fare too much noise, she slammed her foot on the ground, her mouth open in a silent scream.

_“AB, do you read. Come in.”_

Priest’s voice was flat, almost disinterested. He would be, she could imagine his cold, dead eyes and expressionless face. No, it wouldn’t be expressionless. His mouth would be twitching with a smirk and he’d have a malevolent twinkle in his eye.

“I read.” She hissed, blinking back the tears that were prickling in her eyes. Fuck, she hated this so much. Standing there, clutching the coins in her hands, she gulped down the lump in her throat.

_“Stand-by. Keep their trust, freak, do not blow this for us.”_

“I’ll try.” She added ‘you fucking motherfucker’, mouthing it silently. Even though she’d only been around the rowdies for a day, she’d already picked up some very colourful language.

_“Maybe sprinkle in some of your tragic backstory, hm? That would make them even more protective of you. They’ll be so caught up in taking care of you that extraction will be easier.”_

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Amanda hadn’t thought it was possible for her to hate someone so much, but Priest had hit an all time low. Through gritted teeth, she muttered an ‘okay’ and then signed off, wishing she could get the thing out of her ear.

“You all right there?” Martin emerged from the side of the van. Her heart slammed against her ribs. How much had he heard? Amanda felt panic surge through her and he could tell too. He held up his hands, thinking she might be having another one of those attacks.

“It’s okay, it’s just me.”

It’s precisely because it’s you, she thought miserably. She cleared her throat and nodded. “I’m fine, just a bit uhm-“

“A bit shaky?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, glancing at him. He was focused on her and he made a show of inhaling deeply. With every breath, he seemed to be taking in some of her fear, her panic bubbling down to a nervous twinge inside her stomach. A faint blue glow surrounded him, like a kind of halo. She exhaled, finding her airways clear. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He looked her over, his eyebrows still creased in worry. “What happened? Did I do something?”

“No, no!” Rushing to reassure him, she couldn’t bring herself to touch his arms like she wanted to. What she really wanted was to hug him tightly, tell him everything. If anyone could help her situation, sort things out and break bones of one Blackwing officer, it was Martin. The admission of her guilt stuck on her tongue when Todd came to mind. No, she couldn’t tell them. If she did, then she’d never see Todd alive again.

Swallowing down the words that condemned her as a traitor, she recalled what Priest had said. ‘Sprinkle in some of your tragic backstory.’

“It’s a long story,” she told him, pulling her hands back from him, wrapping her arms around herself. “We have time,” murmured Martin and he reached for her, resting a hand on her arms, the other coming up to touch her hair.

“I’m not up to telling it tonight, besides I want the others to hear it as well.” She huffed out an exhale and looked up, realising just how close he was to her, how gently he was touching her. Heat creeped up her collar and he stepped back, coughing to cover up his own embarrassment.

“Tomorrow then.” He said, sneaking a glance at her and wondering what it could be. What could have caused that flood of panic that suddenly hit her. His jaw tensed. He didn’t think he’d like what he would hear.

“Tomorrow.” She promised and with a surge of confidence, she patted his arm gently. “I’ll try and get some sleep.”

He grunted at her, his eyes following her as she walked past him and stepped into the van. The spot she’d touched on his arm tingled lightly and he shook his head, trying to clear it. Quietly, he made his way back towards the campfire. The thoughts about Amanda would surely keep him up all night with no extra caffeine or energy needed.

Amanda wedged herself back into the space she’d vacated. The coins in her pocket dug into her uncomfortably. She struggled to get them out and pushed them above her head, where they’d hopefully be safe.

Cross had turned over in his sleep and she raised his arm, lying beneath it and laying it over her side. Vogel’s mouth was wide open and he snored loudly, his body draped over the mound that was Gripps. As she closed her eyes, she wondered it had been so hard to touch Martin, whilst it was so easy to touch and be touched by the rest of the rowdies. She wondered why Cross’s touch made her feel so comfortable and warm and why Martin’s sparked over her skin. To be fair, his touch made her feel warm as well, but it was in a different way and in rather a different place as well.

With her eyes closed and the sound of the breathing surrounding her, she found it far easier to drop off to sleep now. Even whilst she dreamt however, she felt an underlying current of nerves playing around her. She’d promised to tell Martin about her past, about her story. And she had to do it tomorrow. If she slipped up and said too much, Priest would surely shock her and that wasn’t something she could play off as nothing if it happened in front of the guys.

Her dreams plagued by stress, she dreamt she had to run. The terror present in her dreams, outed itself in whimpering and twitching. It was breathed in and eaten by the rowdies, who lay around her, guarding her, even as they slept.

 

 

Amanda woke when Cross elbowed her hard. He had been lying on top of her, but has used his elbows as leverage, when he rolled onto his side and off of her. She grumbled at him, sitting up and yawning. Despite the hard floor of the van, the constant snoring and mutters (mostly coming from Vogel), she had slept better than she had in years. Dawn was breaking outside and she saw that Gripps was outside now, having switched places with Martin.

Vogel had his arms wrapped tightly around him. His mouth was open, his white mohawk floppy and rumpled. He’d taken his glasses off too. Amanda paused to admire him in all his sleeping glory. His legs were sprawled out, tangled with Vogel’s, their feet grimy now their boots had been taken off.

An odd impulse moved her. Before she could stop herself or realise what she was she doing, she’d bent closer to him, her hand stretching out towards him. She wanted to feel what his beard felt like. And his face. And his mouth.

She drew back with a snap, wondering what on Earth was possessing her. To distract herself, she moved Vogel out of the way, ruffling his hair to keep him asleep and stepped out of the van. Stretching her arms over her head, she groaned as some of her joints popped.

“Mooooorning,” Gripps smiled at her widely, waving at her and indicating to come sit next to him. Her smile grew as he offered her some food, another burrito from the place they’d been to the day before. They’d stashed it in the cooler for her, knowing they didn’t have any food around, as they didn’t need it.

“Breakfast burrito?” She took the tin foil packet from him gratefully and dug in. The foil crinkled in her hands and Gripps asked if she’d slept okay, he knew Vogel had a tendency to wrap his entire body around people and being on the receiving end of that wasn’t always that fun. She replied, spraying lettuce and he tsk-ed, helping her clean up and listening when she replied.

Together in the early sun, her jacket over her bare arms and with Gripps as good company, Amanda had some hope. Perhaps things could stay this way? Forever? Without her ever needing to take them to Blackwing? Would that be allowed? Alas, it was not to be.

_“Rise and shine AB, mission for today is like before. Get them to trust you more. Extraction will be scheduled for later this week.”_

She let out a sigh, playing with the now empty foil of the burrito. Gripps looked at her curiously but if he was concerned or suspicious, he didn’t show it. He stayed quiet.

_“Cough once if you understand.”_

Amanda coughed into her fist and heard the earpiece go silent.

 

As the others emerged from the van, bleary-eyed and all rumpled, she felt her nerves spike and the tension within her body mounting. They seated themselves on the seats, blinking sleepily in the early morning light. Martin hooked his glasses around his ears and sat down, looking at her expectantly. Amanda felt herself go red-hot all over in a manner that wasn’t related to the stress about her upcoming task.

“You gonna tell us then? The long story?”

Vogel settled down in front of her, leaning his back against her legs. “A story?” He twisted to look up at her, excited. “Great! I’ve heard all their ones like a bazillion times and Gripps stinks at doing funny voices.”

“It’s not gonna be that kind of story Vogel, this one,” Martin watched her, seeing her hesitation and nerves splayed over her face, “this story is ‘Manda’s own story.”

“Oh.”

_“Don’t give too much away. We’ll be listening. A word of this mission and zap-zap.”_

_Fuck off lizard man,_ she thought. It made her feel better. One thing was for sure, she would finally be comforted for all the years of hurt she’d been through. Chances are, those years weren’t over by a long shot.

She exhaled, spreading her hands on her knees. Cross leaned in, keeping his hands by picking the dirt from underneath his fingernails. Martin watched her, silent and motionless. Gripps’ leg was resting against her, already giving her unspoken affection. Vogel rested his head against her legs, his feet bouncing up and down. Save from seeing them sleeping, this was the quietest she’d seen them.

“You know about, the thing I have. The sickness.”

“It makes you see things and hear things and feel things that aren’t real.” Vogel commented.

“Yeah,” she replied, letting her hands wander to his head. She focused on rubbing his short hair, it helped ground her.

“They aren’t real. But they feel real to me.” She cleared her throat, finding it easier to talk without looking at them. “Some stuff really hurts me like yesterday. I was being burnt alive. I’ve been drowned, stabbed, electrocuted,” they all winced in unison as she spoke, “anything horrible you can think of really. And I hate it.”

Martin started twisting a ring around his finger, his eyes locked on her, as she sat there. She may not have realised it herself yet, but she fit into their group like a perfect puzzle piece. As she sat there, Gripps watching her protectively, Vogel being groomed by her, Cross leaning close to her, Martin already couldn’t imagine the Rowdy Three without her. He focused on her words, trying to control his anger at her next words.

“I’ve had it for ages. My brother too. When we were kids, when we were at school, the attacks happened. No one believed us, they just thought we were being irritating.” Vogel nudged his head into her hands, almost like a cat.

“That’s bullshit,” muttered Gripps and she nodded, sighing.

“When we didn’t stop, they realised we were serious. My parents took us to see so many doctors and we were in hospitals so much…. I spent more time away being tested than I was at home. At least we were together, my brother and I.” Gripps allowed his arm to settle over her shoulders, inching closer to her. His warmth helped stave off the cold that was setting in her bones, dreading what came next in her story.

“Nothing worked-“

“We did though!” Vogel twisted around to see her now, moving his body fully to face her. “We helped you!”

Amanda smiled weakly. “Yeah, shame we didn’t meet each other earlier. I could have done with some emotion eating punks.” He nodded solemnly and then rested his arms on her legs, his chin on top, looking up at her as she continued.

“Well, nothing worked back then and my parents didn’t know what to do. One day, someone approached them. Told them about this testing facility, run by a branch of the government. They’d take us in, take care of us, monitor the attacks, etcetera…” She waved her hand as she tailed off. Gripps was watching her closely and she clammed up.

The lump was back in her throat again. “My parents thought they were helping us.”

Vogel frowned. When she glanced around them, she saw dawning comprehension on Martin and Cross’ faces.

“They called them, told them to take us in and find out how to stop the disease. Stop it or treat it or whatever, just find out more and take care of us.”

Amanda paused, feeling sick. Her stomach was twisting so badly, she felt like she was about to hurl. Cold sweat ran down her spine, goose bumps raised on her bare arms. She shivered, painfully hard.

“They didn’t take care of us though.”

_“Careful now.”_

“They locked us up.” Martin’s jaw clenched hard.

“They stuck us with needles, cut bits off of us.” Gripps pulled her to his side and she carried on speaking, her voice muffled.

“They hurt us so much.”

Her panic was rising again as she recalled her cramped cell, the one they’d throw her into if she had been unhelpful during testing. She recalled Priest’s torture and she shuddered, her breath a gasp that hurt her throat. They could all smell the approaching attack. As one, they inhaled, a blue glow seeping into their mouths.

Amanda could breathe again.

“These people,” started Cross, who’d come to sit beside Vogel, “were they Blackwing?”  

When Amanda nodded, Martin stood up and started pacing around them. His boots kicked up dust and dirt as he stomped in a circle. Gripps held her tighter and Vogel started smacking a bat against his knee. When she looked closer, she saw nails had been driven into the end of the weapon.

“Those fuckers.” Cross reached out to hold her hand.

“I hate those guys, soooooooo, so much, I don’t wanna talk about those guys, no, no, no way,” muttered Vogel.

Of course Amanda knew that they had been in Blackwing, her whole mission was to retrieve them after all. But the way all four of them reacted like this, she felt her gut burn. She couldn’t go through with the mission. She couldn’t put them back in that prison. She just couldn’t. As if sensing she was about to come clean, she felt a chilling whisper in her ear.

_“Your brother sends his regards. And has been asking for you, just you know, in case you were getting any smart ideas.”_

Her stomach twisted again. She had to go through with this. For Todd. If only there was a way she could save them all, Todd as well as her newly found family of punks vampire.

“You guys were there too?” Her voice broke without her intention and she looked up at Martin. His fists were balled and he looked furious.

“Yeah.”

“How did you escape?”

Martin barked a laugh. “We smashed shit.”

Vogel perked up and grinned at her. “We smashed the _shit_ out of everything we could find and well, just got out.” He shrugged, finishing humbly. Amanda couldn’t imagine smashing her way out of the situation shh was in. If only it was that simple.

“How did _you_ escape?” Cross gazed up at her, his hair in his eyes. Without thinking, she brushed it back, tucking it behind his ears. He grinned toothily at her. She smiled back and only realised he’d asked a question when he prompted her with a ‘Well?’.

Shit. She hadn’t been given a backstory. Shit, shit _, shit,_ what was she supposed to say?

_“A door was left open. You just took the opportunity and ran.”_

“I, I err, don’t remember much. The adrenaline made everything go so fast.” She lied, refusing to use Priest’s excuse. If she could in any way hinder him or refuse to accept what he offered her, she would.

“There was a guy, a scientist and he,” her hands were shaking as she gestured at the air, “he had this tray of tools. There was no one else around, which was weird and I… I panicked.  I grabbed one and just hit him over the head with it.”

They all whooped loudly, the four of them surrounding her now, each one touching her in some way, keeping her grounded and warm. Martin’s hand burnt on her shoulder. She resisted the urge to reach up and lace her fingers through his.

“And then, I just ran.”

“Good.” Gripps patted her arm gently.

“Yeah, you’re safe from them now kid.” Martin nodded, squeezing her shoulder in reassurance. Amanda’s heart sank but she tried to smile. It was weak, but she hoped that they would believe her to be overcome with emotion. Truthfully, she felt real pain. A real fondness for these rowdy four had already found a place deep within her. And helping a monster capture them would destroy her.

They were about to howl and whoop again, to celebrate her escape properly, but when her eyes filled with tears, they all leant closer to her.

“Oh god,” she let real anguish run through her. She knew she was convincing them of her sincerity, knew she was tricking them. She hated herself for it. But she also hurt knowing she was out here and that Todd was still locked up and probably being beaten daily.

“What’s wrong?” Vogel stared at her, worried. All four hands tightened on her.

“My brother is still there.” They all hissed. As one, almost like a hive-mind, they stood up. They loomed over her, faces serious. She was reminded of when she’d met them, when she was on the floor burning and they had stood over her and had saved her.

“We need to go.”

“Wh-what? Where?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Vogel pulled her to her feet and handed her his bat. “We’re going to go save your brother, duh.”

Amanda couldn’t believe them. They were too nice. Too loyal. Too _good._ Especially too good for her. She grinned widely. When she heard the stunned silence on the comms, she knew Priest was thinking up a plan fast, trying to use this new development as best he could.

Gripps wrapped his arms around her waist, Cross copying him. Martin stood over them, his hands on Cross’ and Gripps’ shoulders. Amanda could feel his head resting against hers. Vogel jumped on top, stretching his arms out as wide as possible to encompass them all in a hug.  

“We got you.” Cross patted her head. 

“You’re safe now, kid.” Gripps smiled widely at her. 

“Now let’s go bust your brother out of that hell-hole.” She felt Martin's voice rumble beside her ear and she felt herself go red. 

“Fucking hell yes!” Vogel crowed loudly. 

Amanda’s wide smile faltered when she heard Priest hiss in her ear.

_“I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they find out.”_


	6. I fucking hate Priest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cross, Vogel and Gripps go off to find supplies, leaving Amanda and Martin uncomfortably alone in the van. Unspoken things are confessed through body language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's reading and I hope you enjoy the update!! Y'all have a big surprise in store for you next chapter :^)

“You sure this is a good idea?”

Amanda watched Cross deck Vogel out with a large, empty backpack. Cross clicked the straps together, tightening them around Vogel’s chest. The van was parked in a forest, as far in as it could go without getting caged in by trees. The ground crunched underfoot, dead leaves and mulch dappled in the midday sun.

“It’s not a great idea, but we need supplies for you,” Gripps told her as he untied his boots and tightened the laces, hooping them around his fingers and pulling with a groan. “Besides, we need… other supplies too.” He shared a look with Cross, who nodded. Cross stuck his thumbs behind the straps of his own bag, tattered and grey and pursed his lips, clearly content with leaving that cryptic comment hanging in the air.

“Maybe I should come, to help,” she grabbed the last rucksack, which was waiting on the seat of the van. Martin grabbed it from her and shook his head. Again, she felt her skin itch and her stomach twist as he stood over her. The fact that he clearly didn’t know the word ‘personal space’ was both a blessing and a curse.

“No can do. You only escaped them bastards a while ago. That means they’ll be looking for you.” Martin put his weight on one leg, his hip jutting out and bumping her side. “If they even catch a glimpse of you, they’ll send down a team to get you.”

Amanda looked at the floor, saw the scuffed toes of his boots. “I know,” she murmured, “I just feel so –“

“Scared?” Martin raised an eyebrow and looked down at her. “It’s okay,” he leant down to her height, whispering so the other three couldn’t hear them well, “I am too. But I trust them. They're strong as fuck.” A conspiratorial smile that left Amanda feeling awfully warm and he moved away from her, handing the bag to Gripps, who strapped it on tightly.

“We’ll get food for you, some more clothes, water,” Gripps listed, counting them on his fingers, “see if we can find any more weapons or money. We’ll fill the tank up with gas at the next station we find.” Martin clapped him on the back and brought them all in close. Amanda was brought in for a hug too.

“Stay out of sight. Go fast, you can sleep when you get back to the van later.” Martin instructed, gazing at each one of his brothers in turn. “Keep Amanda safe,” Cross told him, squeezing the back of Martin’s neck.

Vogel laughed, jittery with excitement. “Gotta go fast!” He cried, squeezing them all tightly before taking off at a sprint. Cross and Gripps swear loudly and chase after him, running through the trees, zigzagging wildly. Within seconds they were out of sight.

The forest was oddly silent without those three and Amanda felt her nerves return. Priest could hear every word, would he send out a team to catch them without telling her? Gnawing at the nail of her pinky finger, she kept her eyes locked on the spot she’d last seen her boys.

“We should probably get in the van,” Martin’s voice broke her out of her stupor. He’d been watching her worry in silence and knew he had to do something to keep her busy. “In case they come back and have some guys on their tail. Then we can go immediately.”

Amanda nodded at his reasoning and followed him to the van, clambering onto the passenger’s seat. Martin cranked the lever to roll down his window and she did the same, her arm burning at the effort.

For a moment they sat in silence, Amanda biting her nails again. The sounds of birds, shifting leaves and echoing noises not quite human drifted in through the open windows. It was peaceful, but Martin knew the quiet would only amplify the noise of worry inside her mind.

He reached down, changed his mind and then focused on turning the knob for the radio instead. Crackled static drifted from the bashed-up speakers, music and the sound of voices tuning in and out as he tried to find a station. Quiet banjo music was all they could tune in to and even then it sounded staticky, but it was better than nothing.

He leant his head against the chair and lit a cigarette. Amanda watched him out of the corner of her eye, seeing him mutter when he had to click the lighter several times to have the end catch. Smoke trickled out of his mouth and she had to look away.

_“Awful quiet there AB, you ain’t thinking of anything bad now are you?”_

Her hands clenched on her knees. She hated the silence between Martin and herself but she hated the sound of Priest’s voice even more. Choosing instead to fill the silence with Martin’s voice, she turned to face him, getting herself comfortable on the seat.

"You know, I don't think I've ever thanked you properly."

"Strange way to start a conversation but okay." Martin turned towards her, looking at her over his glasses. The cigarette dangled from his lips and she had to hold herself back to snatch it and replace it with her own mouth.

"There ain’t any need to thank us, ‘Manda." He turned his face away from her as he blew out smoke. She watched it curl out of the open window, spanning over his wide frame and broad shoulders. She shivered.

"I’m gonna, anyway."

His teeth glinted as he smiled and this time he didn’t turn away to exhale smoke. It coiled around his face, curling over his cheekbones almost as if it was daring her to reach out and touch them.

"Thank you."

"No need."

"Thank you," she insisted, getting into his face now. Her heart was thumping painfully hard but she needed to do something, to tell him how much she appreciated him and everyone else - make him feel happy before they were crushed by her sudden betrayal. It was an inevitability.

"Thank you for saving me. And taking me in and clothing me and feeding me and -" he was so close now she could taste the smoke on his breath, "taking care of me." His hand, the one without the burning cigarette, reached up and his fingers threaded through her hair.

"You don't need to thank us," he murmured and she felt heat race over her skin. His eyes were focused elsewhere, not on her own eyes but on her chin. No, not her chin. Her mouth.

He was so close she could have counted each stray freckle scattered over his nose and cheeks. So close she could see each eyelash as it brushed his skin when he blinked, looking up at her.

Her own hand trailed up now, fingertips grazing his beard. It was softer than she'd thought, longer than she'd imagined all those times. Shit.

Their breath was in sync now and he opened his mouth. To speak, to make some teasing quip, to lick his lips, she didn't know. And she didn't care.

With surprising force, she yanked him forward by the collar.

It was all she had spent hours imagining and more.

Their kiss was far from perfect. Squished noses, teeth clicking together, breath coming in hot and heavy. Amanda was inexperienced but eager to touch, taste, please him. He kissed her back hungrily, worrying her lower lip between his teeth when she tried to draw back for air.

Finally he pulled back too.

Her eyes shining, her lips bright red and tingling, her hair rumpled from where he'd brushed through it. Martin thought she looked like the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. She was perfect.

Martin’s glasses were off balance, he had pink patches all over his cheeks and his mouth was still slightly open, Amanda couldn’t imagine a more perfect rugged punk vampire. He was perfect.

"Well-"

"Can we do that again, please?" Amanda's voice was squeaky, her face bright pink. Despite her obvious embarrassment, she fingered his collar, obvious in her refusal to leave any more space between them.

"I'll do you one better," Martin flicked his cigarette out of the window and shifted his seat backwards. "Come 'ere," she didn't need to be told twice.

She clambered over the seat to get to him and he sat back, watching with a smile as she settled on his legs. Clearly not confident enough to straddle him, she sat with her legs to one side. It didn't matter, any position that eliminated the distance between them was good. He tucked his arms around her, feeling her own wrap around his neck.

Their kiss was softer this time, Martin's hand on her hot cheek as she tried to replicate his gentle movements, chasing the tip of his tongue as it traced over her lips.

"Shit," she muttered against him and she leant her head back as he kissed his way down her neck.

_"Enjoying yourself?"_

She felt a shiver run down her spine that had nothing to do with Martin's thumb tracing circles under her shirt.

She threw herself harder into the kiss, his grunt of surprise making her smile.

She didn't want to hear Priest, she didn't want any of it, of Blackwing, anymore. She wasn't doing this to gain his trust, she wasn’t doing this to progress this damn fucking mission. She wanted the Rowdy three, she wanted Todd to be safe and she wanted Martin to kiss her harder.

She wanted Martin, she wanted to touch him, to satiate the fire that burned inside of her whenever he caught her eye. She needed to, because the burning was so hot and uncomfortable within her bones. They were so unused to warmth, having been frozen down to the very bone marrow during those years she was locked up. There had been no warmth in Blackwing.

And now here she was, so filled and surrounded by warmth, by the Rowdies, that she felt like she was burning up. So she did what anyone in their right mind would do. She turned up the radio and focused herself solely on Martin.

Her kisses were sloppy, unpractised but she made up for it with endless enthusiasm. Martin wasn’t an expert kisser himself but he knew without a doubt that her kisses were the best he’d ever had. Then again, perhaps he was a little biased. He smiled into the kiss, feeling her fingers graze the shaved sides of his head. Her left hand reached down and tugged on the earring there and his grip tightened around her.

“Fuck, ‘Manda,” he muttered into her mouth and he felt her smile against him. His glasses smushed between them, his clothes stiflingly tight and hot beneath her, his legs were going dead from her weight on them and yet he still wouldn’t change a thing. He could feel her nerves, her excitement roil around them in the van, the feelings almost oppressive as they weighed down on him in the small enclosed area. One hand on her lower back and the other on her thigh, he leant forward to settle himself somewhat comfier beneath her. When he shifted, she helped, moving backwards. Her hip hit the horn on the steering wheel and they both jumped at the sudden blare of noise.

She collapsed against him, laughing hard. He held her to his chest, snickering along with her, feeling how she shook against him. “Oh god,” she whispered, tilting her head up.

“Oh god,” he agreed, grinning widely and he started pressing kisses to her cheeks, first left, then right, then up to her forehead and then planting a solid one on her lips. His hand crept down her thigh and even through the thick fabric of her torn jeans he could feel a distinct ridge there.

He paused and frowned, pulling away from her. “What’s –“

Dawning horror in her stomach and she surged forward again, kissing him hard and pulling his hands to her chest. He was easily distracted and Amanda felt a hot pang of shame hit her right in the ribs. Here she was, claiming that she was done with Blackwing and yet the lies still hadn’t stopped.

“Slow down, darlin’,” he murmured into her ear, settling his hands back on her waist. She pressed her face to his neck, trying to copy what he’d done before but she was using a significantly higher percentage of teeth. Almost purring, Martin let her attack his neck, his hands roaming down her back and into the back pockets of her jeans. He squeezed hard and she sat up, bright red.

“You weren’t slowin’ down,” he told her, a lazy smile on his face. His accent was getting thicker, the drawl sending shockwaves down to the pit of her abdomen.

“Do that again,” she didn’t really ask him to, she ordered him to. On top of her command, she sat back on his hands, propping her legs up by his side so that she was facing him more easily. The most comfortable position would have been sitting on top of him, straddling his legs, but she didn’t have enough bravery for that.

He squeezed hard, one hand guiding her by the chin, back to his mouth.

 _“ Wow, I really can’t wait to pick his brains and see what he thinks of all of this after you betray him,”_ whispered Priest and she sat up with a jolt.

“Not okay?” asked Martin, immediately removing his hands, worry creasing his brow. She shook her head and leant against his chest, trying to swallow down the bile that Priest caused within her.

“No, sorry, I just err, I thought I heard something.” She lied smoothly, hating the fact that lying came so easily to her now. She hated it even more that she could lie so easily to Martin, of all people.

His hands were warm as they rested on her sides. His breath catching in her hair, she heard him murmur, “You’re safe with me. I promise,” before he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

But are _you_ safe with _me_? She thought, leaning up to gaze at him. His eyes were soft behind the glasses, his rough hands gentle as they rubbed her lower back. _No_ , she realised, _you’re not safe with me at all._

“Now, focus on me, darlin’.” She turned off the voices in her head, her guilt, her own self hatred and closed her eyes. She focused on his smell, his taste, his touch. And somehow that made it easier for her. It allowed her to believe that they were just two people who liked each other, not two escaped test-subject who were in terrible danger of being caught again.

It was getting easier to believe her own lies.

 


	7. F U C K

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priest sets the plan in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the longest fic I've ever written and it's not even finished yet!! We're up to 20k now!!

Gripps, Vogel and Cross returned to find Amanda and Martin awfully red and dishevelled.  Amanda’s hair as all mussed up, Martin was unable to find his glasses and as he needed his glasses to find his glasses, he was rather stuck. However, where Martin looked rather pleased with himself, Amanda seemed deathly embarrassed. Despite this, Cross couldn’t help but tease them both. He smirked at Martin when he saw the rather purple lovebite, which was hidden badly by Martin’s upright collar. Not wanting Gripps and Vogel to ask too many questions, Martin clapped his hand over it to hide it.

Vogel was too oblivious to notice how badly done up Martin’s shirt was and proceeded to show him all the supplies, money, new bats and crowbars they’d acquired. He grinned widely, demonstrating a particularly violent swing with his new ‘most favourite ever’ baseball bat and then went off to show Amanda, who was still pink in the face and whose lips were still rather swollen.

All supplies procured, the rowdies trooped into the van and set off. Amanda sat in the back with the others, trying hard not to look when Martin rested his arm on the back of the seats as he drove. The muscles in his forearm were quite defined from where she was sitting. Practically having to wrench her eyes away from him, she turned her back towards him. Even though she couldn’t see his arm, couldn’t see him, she still remembered how it felt for his arms to be around her, squeezing her closer to him. She coughed loudly and threw herself into conversation. Cross and Gripps shared knowing looks.

The three rowdies in the back kept her entertained by telling her about their raid, illustrating it with plenty of noises, hand gestures and shouting as they interrupted each other’s stories. They didn’t stop even when Martin pulled in to an abandoned looking gas station and they all piled out to stretch their legs. Even when they all returned to the van, pulling Vogel back to stop him from stealing sweets, the stories kept on coming.

It was as Cross was showing her how they’d hurled Vogel into a dumpster to collect a pair of old, rusty crowbars that Martin looked over his shoulder and caught her eye. They both went bright red and looked away quickly. Amanda tried to steal glances of him, but all she could see was the pink tips of his ears. In turn, Martin looked in the rear view mirror a lot, looking away when he saw Gripps shaking his head in disbelief at their antics.

Just as night started falling, they all agreed on stopping one last time before Blackwing. Amanda had no idea how they knew where the facility was without consulting a map, but she trusted their noses and experience. She’d hoped it was further, she wanted to spend as much time with the rowdies as she could before… She shook her head and clambered out of the van, helping them shift the seats.  As Amanda hadn’t eaten all day, she was ravenous. They handed her the food they’d brought for her and built a campfire as she dug her brittle plastic fork into the cup of pasta.  

Though the field they were in was calm, the crackle of the fire lending a warm and friendly atmosphere, there was a tense current beneath it all. Martin and Cross sat together, muttering tersely and trying to figure out a plan. Cross fingered the new crowbar Vogel had got for him and ground the end into the dirt as they spoke. He used it draw lines, which both he and Martin poured over intensely, before scuffing out the marks and starting over.

After the first few bites of cold pasta, Amanda slowed down. Her hunger was dying down and she ate slowly, subdued. Vogel tried to tell her more stories about the day to keep her occupied, but she couldn’t focus on them. What with them almost arriving at the Blackwing facility, she’d been worrying more than usual. She was still caught up in what Priest had said before. His words always bothered her, but there was something about the smug tone with which he’d said them that was gnawing away at her. Was that fucker planning something without telling her? Surely not, surely he’d tell her if they had any plans for capture yet?

Whilst Vogel regaled her with tales of his exploits, comments and corrections coming from Gripps, she was also trying to avoid Martin. It wasn’t hard, as he was so caught up in planning with Cross, but every now and then he looked up. When he saw her looking, he smiled, the crinkles by his eyes coming out and almost making her cry.

As lovely as it had been to kiss and touch him in such a familiar matter, she knew it could never happen again. She knew she couldn’t allow it. It would only make the betrayal that much worse, that much more bitter for him. It had been a lapse of judgement on her part, but her desire had taken over the reigns briefly. She couldn’t let it happen again. No matter how her stomach jumped when he gazed at her. No matter how many sparks she felt when he touched her. No matter how much she kept thinking about the feeling of his strong thighs beneath her, the way his wide palms had cupped her hips. No matter how strongly she could recall his taste: smoke, beer and something hot. No matter how much she wanted to curl her fingers back in his mohawk and bask in his smell and heat and just enjoy being together.

Her guilt over kissing Martin was mixing with her nerves. The cocktail of emotions was making her feel sick and caused questions to whirl through her mind.

Would they really be able to reach Blackwing before Priest came to get them? What would Priest do when they got there? Did Priest have an ambush ready? What was Martin going to think of her when all was revealed? Surely, he’d hate her. Not just Martin, would hate her. All four of them would hate her, for betraying their trust and playing them this way.

Vogel realised she was zoning out and was about to slap her on the shoulder to get her attention back, like he did with the others when he remembered how she reacted to sudden physical contact. He inched his hand towards her knee but stopped when she winced hard. It was odd as he hadn’t even touched her yet.

A sudden crackling in her ear had startled her and Vogel frowned at her, about to ask if she was all right. But the sudden silence in the field made him pause. It was as if a mute button had been pressed, as if all of nature had been hushed. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

_“I’m afraid there’s been a slight change of plans.”_ Amanda froze, her hands dropping her cup of cold pasta to the floor. It spilt in a spectacular arch, pesto and cheese mixing with dirt and grass. She balled them into fists on auto-pilot. Her whole body tensed, muscles ready to run or fight. The rowdies looked at her in confusion. Then they froze too, panic-stricken.

_“See, we figured you might be getting some ideas, so we decided-“_

“-to jump in early.” The voice had moved, it was double now, somehow. One voice resounded inside of her skull and then the same voice, the same words, came from right behind her.

“‘Manda!!” The rowdies moved as one. Gripps pulled her to her feet, and she stumbled at the sudden movement. Martin stepped in front of her, his hands out to keep her behind him and out of sight. Vogel grabbed her hand and Cross brought up the rear. They all crouched low, ready to fight and determined to keep her protected, keeping her flanked on all sides. Her heart was racing like mad – _no, no, no, no, no!_ _Not now! Please!_

The man who starred in her waking nightmares, the man who’d tortured her until she was broken in both body and spirit, the man she hated with more passion than anything in the entire Universe, had arrived. Priest emerged from the darkness, his arm lazily thrown over a machine gun. With him, a row of armed, black clad soldiers appeared, spreading out by his sides, each one holding a ridiculously large gun. Each one of those gleaming guns was trained on them. On her boys.

“Evening, project Incubus. All four o’ you,” Priest raised his hand in a mock wave. Then he moved, trying to look past Martin. But Martin mirrored Priest’s movements so that he was blocking Amanda from Priest’s view, so that she would stay safely behind him. She reached for Martin, grabbing a fistful of the fabric of his shirt. Her physical touch reassured him, showed him that she was still there with them, still safe. Or rather it promised him she was still safe for _now_.

Martin’s jaw tensed and he didn’t look back at her, instead keeping his eyes focused on Amanda’s torturer.

Amanda’s panic rose. What could she do? What was Priest going to do to them? To her?

She was muddled and she could feel her body buzz with adrenaline. And with it came the drowning feeling that meant only one thing. An attack was going to flood her soon if the boys didn’t help her.

“Well, ‘evening to you too Project Hecate,” letting his hand grip the gun loosely, Priest snorted as Vogel kept a tight grip on her, not one of them prepared to let that monster take her. All four of them tensed even more, reacting the new name. They hadn’t heard her Blackwing codename before and with that knowledge came a burst of fury. They snarled at him, converging tighter around their girl.

Martin glanced at Vogel, flinging his arm out to Vogel’s chest, pushing him back, towards what he thought was safety. His voice was low and hissed “Take ‘Manda and run –“

“It’s too late for that. You’re surrounded. Give up, Martin.” Priest interrupted the surreptitious conversation smoothly. He inspected his gloves, as he would do his nails. He was clearly bored with talking. Amanda felt her stomach sink. They needed to keep him talking. When he was talking, he wasn’t hurting someone. He liked the sound of his own voice too much to not stop whatever he was doing and admire it. She recalled all the times he would stop to chat idly with her between beatings, between electrocutions, her body still writhing during a pararibulitis attack. Even if it meant dying, she would do anything to stop him from hurting her boys.

“Leave us be and you won’t get hurt, Oz.” Martin’s jaw was so tight it hardly moved as he spat out the words. In the haze of panic, Amanda registered a spark of confusion, caused by the way they were speaking. Who was ‘Oz’? Why was Priest referring to Martin by name, rather than by his project codename as he usually always did with subjects?

“Nah, I don’t think I’ll be the one getting hurt.” Priest’s smirk grew and Amanda felt a surge of energy amongst her boys. Despite the stand-off, despite each of them looking more terrified and furious than she’d ever seen, they were still looking out for her, drinking in her fear and panic. She could have cried. She didn’t deserve them.

“Project Hecate, you did a good job.” Amanda’s blood ran cold. She felt a chill down to her bones as though even her bone marrow had just frozen. Her hand tightened on the back of Martin’s shirt. Cold sweat spotted her brow. She knew what was coming. She knew he’d gloat and break them all mentally before taking them in. He was going to tell them. And it was going to break them.

“I know it can’t have been fun hanging around these fuckwits, but it’s over. Your mission’s over. You can come home now.” Priest’s face was twisted with malice, with humour and he beckoned for her to come towards him. She wanted to hide, to run to the ends of the Earth. She wanted to claw his eyes out of his face. As if she would run to his side.

Vogel’s eyes were wide as he snapped his stare towards from Priest to her. His grip loosened and then all of their hands let go of her, as they all took a step back from her. Even Martin’s hands lowered and he took a step forward, pulling away from her. She was left with an empty hand and an emptiness inside. It felt as though a black hole had been created in her stomach and was sucking down and destroying everything. Everything she loved, everything she cared about, everything she wanted was being destroyed piece by piece.

She couldn’t breathe. Bringing her hands to her chest, she felt like she was dying. The attack was rearing its head, preparing to strike. Martin didn’t look at her, but she could feel Gripps and Cross gazing at her. She didn’t look back at them, but her image of their accusatory looks made her skin crawl. Her eyes were on Martin’s back, who was still in front of her.

“The fuck you talkin’ about! You don’t know shit!” Martin shouted, the tendons on his neck standing out. But despite his words, his actions told Amanda enough. He suspected. He didn’t trust her any more.

“Why don’t you ask your ‘ _darlin’_ ’ over there, I’m sure she’ll explain.” It was as if she was being stabbed with a knife, over and over again. Vogel, Gripps, Cross, she saw the way they were looking at her. Confused, not being able to believe what was implied.

Martin straightened up and finally, _finally_ looked at her. It was only a glance over his shoulder, but she could see enough. His eyebrows were drawn together and she _knew_. She knew that he’d just realised that Priest had been listening to them, that every word they’d exchanged had been heard. The knife sliced down to her bones and the panic rose, engulfing her. Did he think it was all a lie? Did he think she was only doing it to hurt him, to gain his trust? She wanted to spit out the bile that was rising in her throat. She wanted to scream, to tell him it wasn’t true. But she was paralysed, only about to shake her head, her chest rising and falling with increasing speed. _Please,_ she begged in her head, _please, please don’t believe him._

The rowdies were hesitant, not sure what to believe, they exchanged looks, their fighting poses gradually shifting and disappearing. The next words that Priest spoke made them choose a side, made it clear who was telling the truth.  

“You can see your brother soon, I promise.” And their hands were back on her, steadying her, comforting her as she tried to breathe. Gripps looked down at her, saw the despair in her eyes. He nodded and they sucked in her fear, her pain. Perhaps they couldn’t believe what she’d done and perhaps they’d never forgive her. But at the very least, they knew why.

She clearly hadn’t always been lying, her brother being stuck in Blackwing was true. And Priest had clearly been using him to blackmail her into doing this fucked up mission thing. Martin stepped backwards, catching her wrist in one of his hands. Gripps, Vogel and Cross all stood beside her, their sides touching, Cross’s chest touching her back. No matter what fucked up kind of situation this was, all four of them knew. Amanda needed help. And they’d rather die than leave her helpless.

“Go fuck yourself,” Vogel spat at him and Cross stuck up both of his middle fingers towards the man. Priest sighed and reached into his pocket.

“Have it your way then.”

Amanda knew what he was going to do a split-second before it happened.

“No, don’t-“

As the electricity crackled from her leg cuff, she spasmed to the floor. With a scream, she writhed and shuddered, sparks and jolts coursing through her entire body.

“This really could have been completely avoided, you know,” Priest said with another sigh, cocking his gun. He knew it would be easier to capture the rowdies if they were distracted by Amanda’s pain, knowing that the compassionate fuckers would try to help her.

“Right, take them by force.” As Amanda lay on the floor, her body spasming as the voltage continued, the soldiers moved out.

Gripps dropped down, trying to feed on the fear Amanda exuded. If this current kept up, she’d be swamped by an attack in no time.

“Turn it off!” He shouted and the other three knew what to do.

Martin launched himself at Priest, knocking him to the floor. Priest dropped the control and went down under the tall, strong form of Martin. He kicked the gun out of Priest’s hand and sat on top of the torturer and began to punch, hit and pummel any bit of the man he could reach. Vogel scrabbled around for the remote whilst simultaneously creating havoc as he bashed into soldiers and grabbed their legs, unbalancing them and sending them crashing to the ground. Cross went to town with the crowbar he’d snatched from his previous perch. The sound of metal on metal rang through the clearing as soldier after soldier crumpled, their helmets providing little protection against Cross’s strength.

Amanda shuddered against the ground, her face wet with tears and smudged with grime. Gripps held himself back from touching her and kept trying to feed. Those two things together would have been hard to do anyway, but on top of that he was also trying to keep soldiers away from them. Vogel screeched loudly when he found the remote and snapped it in half, howling loudly and immediately jumping on another man. He pulled his shiny helmet off and started bashing it against the man’s head.

The electricity stopped and Amanda lay still, finally able to breathe again. Gripps pulled her up against him and she held him tight, trembling hard. Had it not been for Gripps the attack would have taken her.  She was able to watch over his shoulder as Martin continued to beat up Priest, who was struggling hard to fight back. Cross was a one-man whirlwind of iron and fists and Vogel bounced around, laughing and crashing into soldiers, sending them flying against each other.

It all seemed to be going so well.

That is, until Martin was attacked by four new soldiers, who appeared out of the darkness. He was thrown to the ground, viciously stomped on. Cross was being overwhelmed, surrounded on all sides and shouting in rage. Amanda cried out and Gripps turned, watching in anguish as Priest got to his feet and, covered in welts and bruises and blood, cocked his gun with a lopsided, vindictive smile.

Vogel stumbled towards Gripps and Amanda, blood streaked from his nose, his hair hanging in his wide eyes.

“Fuck!”

All Amanda could see of Gripps was the back of his head and she could only hear Martin roar loudly. The sound sent the soldiers reeling back, but within no time at all, more reinforcements had piled in to help. Gripps forced her to her feet, but she still wobbly from the electrocution. More and more of those Blackwing soldiers appeared, helping their colleagues fight Martin and Cross, bringing them down slowly.

“We need to go!” Gripps was in so much pain. He couldn’t leave his brothers, but he knew that if they wanted to help the two, they needed to stay alive at all costs. And that meant running, whilst the soldiers’ and Priest’s attention was focused on Martin and Cross.

“Run, Vogel!”

Vogel grabbed Amanda’s hand and took off, Gripps following as fast as he could. Amanda was in a bad way, stumbling and doing her best to run, but all she managed was a slow jog. Even that jostled her too much, her bruised and aching body hurting with every step.

When a gunshot sounded and Martin screamed in pain, Amanda fell to the ground. She was sobbing hard and when they tried to get moving again, she collapsed against Gripps. He wrapped his arms around her, lifted her off the ground and ran.

Amanda wrapped her legs around Gripps to help him somewhat, her eyes on the scene of devastation that they were leaving. Martin and Cross were still howling, but they were pained howls, not full of their usual vigour.

Another shot sounded and another. The howls tailed off to pained keens.

Amanda wrapped her arms around Gripps’ neck and wept and cursed Priest’s name in every way she knew and heard her curses echoed by Vogel and Gripps. Both of them were trying hard not to break down themselves.

“Fucking Priest! Fuck-fucking lizard – fucking, fuck,” Amanda held Gripps close and felt his own hold on her tighten. They took some comfort in each other’s warmth.

All Amanda could think of, before she felt a prick of a needle in the back of her thigh, before the whole world went dark, was ‘FUCK’.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed reading!! 
> 
> You should all check out this [this awesome moodboard](http://flightinflame.tumblr.com/post/175416854882/007-more-like-double-oh-fuck-amazing-fic-by) by Flightinflame on tumblr!!


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